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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28118076">Wagashi</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaashmoneybb/pseuds/glacier'>glacier (kaashmoneybb)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Food, High School, Inarizaki, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:34:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,958</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28118076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaashmoneybb/pseuds/glacier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Suzuki Yutaka is the student conductor of Inarizaki's band. He isn't sure what to think when suddenly, Miya Atsumu, the team's captain, starts to act strangely nice to him. Maybe it's just the holiday spirit.</p><p>The one where the popular jock might have a crush on the band kid.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Atsumu/Inarizaki Band Conductor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wagashi</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlemayhem/gifts">alittlemayhem</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonshhiine/gifts">moonshhiine</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Credit to user @mediocrewood on Twitter for coming up with a name for the band director. I wanted to use the same name for potential continuity of the ship. They have written the only other AO3 fic of them that I can find, and made the tweet months ago that first put this random little pairing into my head. Their AO3 is moonshhiine, tagged as a gift, and you can find the other fic there.</p><p>I kept saying as a joke that my OTP was Atsumu x Inarizaki Band Director, and, well, they're not my OTP, but it wasn't a complete joke, apparently. </p><p>Hope this makes you smile, and happy holidays. My Twitter is @kaashmoneybb, same as my AO3 username! Thanks for reading.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Guys, focus, we’re almost there. The sooner we get it right, the sooner we can get out of here and let them get back to practice. Let’s respect their time, okay?” Yutaka barked.</p><p> </p><p>His peers remained silent.</p><p> </p><p>His shoulders relaxed slightly, seeing the same tired look in their eyes that he knew they must be seeing in his. “This is our second to last rehearsal with them before the New Year break, and then it’s the Interhigh as soon as we come back. I know you’re tired, but trust me, they need you guys. Last year we weren’t expecting the other team to bring their own percussion. No one at Inarizaki wants to see a repeat of last year.”</p><p> </p><p>He saw expressions change to concern, and whispers between seat neighbors. “Wait! I didn’t mean to stress you out. I just–” he hesitated, unsure how to best phrase his next words– “I don’t want you guys to think this isn’t important. Okay? I know the players appreciate us. So let’s do our jobs.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure they do, Yutaka,” his friend Kimiko teased from the front row, poised with her snare drum. </p><p> </p><p>He chose to ignore her and raised his arms, rousing the student band to their ready positions again. He looked over his shoulder at the court, where the volleyball team was standing around chatting, loosely organized into their current rotation.</p><p> </p><p>He let his arms drop, and led the band into the beginning of their fight song. They came alive instantly, while he kept his gaze trained on the court. </p><p> </p><p>Atsumu jogged back to the serving position, joking with Osamu the whole way, not seeming to be paying much attention to the band. He raised his arm for a second, and then dramatically jerked his hand down into a fist.</p><p> </p><p>The music cut completely, in the middle of a measure. Flawless. </p><p> </p><p>Yutaka dropped his arms and beamed, giving his band a few excited claps. “Amazing, guys! That one was perfect. Let’s just hit that one more time, and then I’ll tell them we’re done.”</p><p> </p><p>“YUTA-KUN!” </p><p> </p><p>He blinked and looked back to the court. There, Atsumu was facing the stands. Yutaka had seen this expression before– during their match versus Karasuno at last year’s Spring Interhigh. A ridiculous, toothy, open mouthed smile, with eyes shut in excitement. </p><p> </p><p>Up until then, he wasn’t even aware that Miya Atsumu knew his name.</p><p> </p><p>“THAT WAS GREAT! SHOULD WE DO IT ONE MORE TIME?” Atsumu yelled from the court, waving his arms. </p><p> </p><p>Yutaka must have looked horrified, because the other students in the stands with him started giggling. He shot them a stern glance, and then looked back down at Atsumu. “Thank you, Miya-san! Yes, one more time, then we’ll be done.”</p><p> </p><p>“Suzuki-san! You’re friends with Miya Atsumu? Since when did you get so popular?” a second year asked excitedly. Clearly, the sentiment was shared by the rest of the band, as they were suddenly extremely interested in practice. While he was admittedly enjoying being seen as cool by his fellow club members for a brief moment, he shook his head in embarrassment. </p><p> </p><p>“No, no. He just knows me from being in the band, I guess.” He raised his arms one last time. “Okay guys, this is the last one– make it just as good.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>That weekend, just before their last week of school, Yutaka was attending the Osaka Christmas Market. And as usual, so was the rest of Inarizaki. It was pretty much a tradition for everyone to visit Osaka at some point over the weekend to enjoy the Christmas celebrations. This year, he came with his two best friends from the band, Masuda Kimiko and Mori Mai. </p><p> </p><p>The market was based on traditional German Christmas markets, and filled with adorable food and craft stalls. Mulled wine, sausages, and hot chocolate were abundant. Hundreds of people were milling about the aisles, bundled up with hats, gloves, and scarves, chattering happily with their loved ones and shopkeepers. Yutaka loved this time of year. There was even a merry-go-round in the square, where he found himself at the moment, watching Kimiko and Mai posing on their colorful steeds.</p><p> </p><p>“Yutaka, take our picture!” Mai yelled, laughing and waving as they went around out of Yutaka’s view. He chuckled to himself and took out his phone, waiting for them to come into sight again.</p><p> </p><p>“Yuta-kun?”</p><p> </p><p>He turned to see an imposing unit of three six-foot tall teenage boys. They stuck out like a sore thumb among the crowd, where most people didn’t clear 5’10”, including himself. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah, hello, Miya-san, Osamu-san, Suna-san.” He nodded respectfully, forgetting about his friends on the ride. </p><p> </p><p>“Suzuki-san,” Osamu replied politely, nodding back.</p><p> </p><p>“I knew it was you! It’s funny to see you here. I guess it’s not funny. But, uh, I wasn’t expecting to,” Atsumu said cheerfully, sticking his hands in the pockets of his oversized puffer. Beside him, leaning against the railing and scrolling on his phone, Suna rolled his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Yutaka shifted nervously, putting his own hands in the pockets of his wool coat. Staticky Christmas songs played from a loudspeaker somewhere. Silent Night had just come on, providing background music for their awkward interaction. He didn’t understand a single word, but popular English Christmas songs were beloved around this time of year. “Well, it’s good to see you three. I hope you’re enjoying the market,” he said curtly, turning back to the merry-go-round, which had stopped. Not that he didn’t like them, but they definitely weren’t friends, and greeting each other in a place like this was surely just a formality. He saw Kimiko and Mai prowling back towards him.</p><p> </p><p>“Um, I don’t know if you guys were going to–”</p><p> </p><p>“Yutaka! You didn’t get a single picture, did you?” Mai interrupted Atsumu without realizing, a fake pout on her face. “Ohmygod, Suna-san! Oh, hello, Osamu-san, Atsumu-san! What’re you guys doing here?!” she squeaked, giving Yutaka a look that said, <em> holy shit, why are they talking to you? </em></p><p> </p><p>Suna looked up. He didn’t smile, but he did look neutral, at least. “Hi, Mori-san.”</p><p> </p><p>Mai went pale. Yutaka could already tell that the singular interaction with her crush was going to send her past the point of no return. He predicted hot flashes, fainting spells, speaking in tongues. “Uh, we should–”</p><p> </p><p>“Anyways, I was gonna ask, are you guys planning on going to Nishinomaru Garden? We were just gonna leave, and I saw you over here, so I thought I’d ask if you wanted to–”</p><p> </p><p>“WOW, Atsumu-san! Of course we’ll come with, that’s such a great idea! You’re a genius!”</p><p> </p><p>Kimiko enthusiastically accepted the invitation before giving him a chance to finish extending it. She grabbed Mai by the shoulders and shook her far too aggressively, apparently trying to revive her. </p><p> </p><p>“Great! Then let’s go, shall we?” Atsumu gave one of his heartbreaker smiles and clapped his hands together.</p><p> </p><p>“Miya-san, really, that’s fine… you don’t have to invite us, we don’t want to be a bother to you.” Yutaka twiddled his fingers anxiously. Obviously, Atsumu had invited them to be polite; there was no way the three most popular boys at Inarizaki wanted them to actually come along. He felt Kimiko and Mai’s glares boring a hole in the side of his head, but he’d risk their wrath to avoid the social misstep. </p><p> </p><p>“Pft, Yuta-kun, it’s no bother. Seriously, we wantcha to come! Right, Samu? Suna? We’re all friends here!” Atsumu threw his arm around Yutaka jovially. Yutaka felt dwarfed, and extremely confused at the insinuation of friendship. Since when? Even being separated by thick layers of coats, heat radiated off of Atsumu from every exposed surface– his neck, through where his jacket was unzipped, his hands. Maybe it’s an athlete thing. Yutaka slipped out from under his arm awkwardly.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, please, come with,” Osamu said. He looked genuine, which appeased Yutaka slightly. And, as always, Suna’s face indicated nothing, nor did he comment. </p><p> </p><p>“Yutaka, let’s go! Come on, it’ll be so fun,” Kimiko said, with an undertone of aggression that Yutaka prayed the volleyball players didn’t pick up on. </p><p> </p><p>He took one more concerned glance at their faces. “I suppose we’ll come with then, if that’s okay,” he sighed. Mai and Kimiko would never let him live this down if he said no.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>After a short metro ride, the unlikely group of six was walking along the garden paths outside of Osaka Castle. The castle was fully illuminated in the distance– the shining pride of Osaka. Every tree was adorned with different colored lights. Osaka’s famous landmarks were recreated in miniature LED form, as well as Christmas themed displays of stockings, candy canes, angels, and the like. There was even a stretch of open field completely striped with blue and purple lights, so that if you looked across it, it looked like a sea of light. </p><p> </p><p>Among the group, only Kimiko and Osamu’s voices could be heard. They enthusiastically identified the different buildings that they recognized in the displays. Of course, Kimiko got along with anyone who gave her the time of day, so it didn’t surprise Yutaka. Mai, on the other hand, was walking silently, almost completely hiding her face in her fluffy white scarf. Yutaka thought that, actually, her and Suna might make a good pair, as the much taller boy paced equally silently alongside her. </p><p> </p><p>“Miya-san, thanks for inviting us. I think it made Mai and Kimiko’s year,” he chuckled. He still couldn’t understand what motive Atsumu had for inviting them along, but he wouldn’t dare ask. </p><p> </p><p>Their friends were a few yards ahead of them, moving slowly along the path.</p><p> </p><p>“Ha, it’s nothing, Yuta-kun. Suna was literally begging me to go up to you and ask. He’s obsessed with Mori-san, but don’t tell him I told you that,” Atsumu replied, grinning. “It’s a good thing you guys come to the Spring Interhigh. She might be the only reason he actually tries in those games. You should see him during our practice matches. Complete bum.”</p><p> </p><p>Yutaka pressed his lips together in a thin line. “I see.” He kept walking in silence, but he wondered privately if Mai's heart could even handle that information if he told her later. There was no snow on the ground, but the air was dead cold- he blew on his hands to warm them up. It barely helped, so he resorted to his pockets again, internally cursing that he had forgotten mittens at home. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, are your hands cold, Yuta-kun? Here, you can borrow my gloves!” Atsumu pulled out a simple pair of black gloves from his coat pocket and waved them at Yutaka. </p><p> </p><p>He put his hands up in protest. “Oh, Miya-san, there’s no need, it’s fine. Thank you for the offer, though.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be silly, we need your hands to be in top condition for the Interhigh!” Atsumu laughed and dangled the gloves towards him again.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, won’t your hands be cold then, Miya-san? Besides, I’d say your hands are more important for the Interhigh than mine,” he said, his brows knit together with concern.</p><p> </p><p>“Yuta-kun, you’re funny,” Atsumu said. He reached out and grabbed Yutaka’s hand, completely covering it with his own. “See? Mine are fine. My hands get too hot if I wear gloves. But my mom made me bring them.” He let go of his hand, and forced Yutaka to take the gloves, finally. “It’s not a big deal. You can give them back before you leave.”</p><p><br/>
At this point, Yutaka felt it would be more rude to reject the gloves, so he bowed his head in appreciation. “Alright, thank you, Miya-san.” He slipped them on. They were way too big for his hands; each fingertip had an empty gap where his own didn’t reach. </p><p> </p><p>They continued walking in silence behind the others. Yutaka felt conflicted. He still didn’t understand Atsumu. When did he decide that they were friends? They’d never even been in the same class. It’s not like Yutaka would mind being friends, but… they couldn’t be more different. He was looking for conservatories to study at next year, Atsumu was being scouted by V-League teams. It was all over Volleyball Monthly. Yutaka had read the interview. Aside from all of that, Atsumu had never expressed particular interest in talking to him before, even at their rehearsals during second year.</p><p> </p><p>“Miya-san?” he said quietly, gaze trained on the ground, ignoring the illumination around them. </p><p> </p><p>“Mm? What’s up?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t mean to be rude, but… why are you being so nice to me recently? If you want extra practices with the band, or have a specific request, you don’t have to do all of this. We’re happy to support the club no matter what.”</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu sighed next to him. Yutaka looked up quickly, seeing his usually happy expression drop to a frown. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have–”</p><p> </p><p>“No, Yuta-kun, it’s fine. I’m just frustrated with myself.” He paused, and gave Yutaka a smile. “I’ve always appreciated you guys, hell, I’m the one who asked Kita-san if we could rehearse my serving routine and include you more. I think the band is dope. And it’s so cool that you’re like, the captain of the band. Like, I feel like we’re kind of the same, you know?” He talked animatedly into the night air, waving his hands for emphasis. “And then I felt bad, that I never talked to you or anything. I’m sorry, that sounds really selfish. It’s not just about me, though. I actually think you’re a cool guy. And I hope you’d wanna be friends.”</p><p> </p><p>Yutaka knew that if his cheeks weren’t already red from the cold, he’d give himself away with the blush that he felt creeping up. He looked down at the ground again. “Miya-san, you’re too kind. I’m sorry, of course I want to be friends. I just… honestly, I didn’t know that you even knew my name, until you shouted at me in practice the other day,” he laughed, scratching the back of his neck with a gloved hand.</p><p> </p><p>“Seriously? Of course I know your name! You’ve been in the band as long as I’ve been on the team. And you know <em> my </em> name, after all!”</p><p> </p><p>Yutaka rolled his eyes. “Miya-san, that’s different. You’re famous.”</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu, unbeknownst to Yutaka, also privately thanked the cold for hiding his blush. “Psh, I’m not famous.” He looked away, occupying himself with the recreation of the manger scene that they were passing by. </p><p> </p><p>“Tsumu, did I just hear you say you’re not famous? Suzuki-san, what are you doing to him back there?” Osamu called over his shoulder, laughing, and inciting a snort from Suna. He turned back around immediately after, not awaiting a response. </p><p> </p><p>Both of them fell quiet, still processing each other’s words. Yutaka was shocked, and honestly, feeling fluttery after hearing Atsumu’s admission. He couldn’t believe that the captain of the volleyball club wanted to be his friend. He was proud of his band too, and warmed by Atsumu’s reverence for them. So his words at rehearsal last week hadn’t been a lie. He couldn’t wait to recount the story to them at practice on Monday. </p><p> </p><p>The group strolled down one of the last aisles they had yet to visit in the garden. Along the path were glowing koi fish, in a rainbow of colors, and beautiful recreations of native flowers. Behind the installations was the sea of lights. Each of their faces were bathed in twinkling light against a pitch black sky. He even saw a tiny smile on Suna, and detected a hint of fondness in his gaze at Mai, while she was remarking to Kimiko about the display excitedly. Yutaka smiled at this himself. Although he had been nervous to accept the invitation just an hour ago, it somehow felt like they were all meant to be here together. He pulled out his phone to snap a picture of the four in front of him. He knew Mai and Kimiko would worship him later for it. This time, he was able to press capture with his thumb before being interrupted. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Yuta-kun,” Atsumu said to his right. Yutaka looked away from his phone, still beaming from how the moment filled him with love for his friends. He turned his face up to Atsumu, who was staring back at him, face masked in multicolor waves of light. </p><p> </p><p>“The lights are really beautiful, aren’t they?”</p><p> </p><p>Yutaka blinked, and looked at the garden, before turning his head back to meet Atsumu’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I think so too, Miya-san.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Tuesday was their final rehearsal with the volleyball club before holiday break. Wednesday would be their last day of classes until they returned in the new year. Everyone in the band was antsy, way too excited to be done with practice to pay much attention. </p><p> </p><p>This time, it was okay with Yutaka. It was a good sign– even chattering amongst each other, filled with excitement, they were nailing the cut off every time. They had done good work last week, and only had to rehearse the serve routine a few times before it was clear they had perfected it. After the fifth success, Yutaka turned to the court. </p><p> </p><p>“Miya-san, I think we’re done! Thank you again. We’ll see you in Tokyo!” he called happily. He’d be able to let the club go home earlier than he had planned. Everyone eagerly gathered their jackets and bags to head back to the music room.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, really? Actually, can you all come down here on your way out, please?” Atsumu yelled back, grinning. </p><p> </p><p>Yutaka smiled while the rest of the students groaned. “Sure, Miya-san.” He turned around to face them. “Come on guys, I’m sure it will be only a moment. Remember to stay along the side so you don’t scuff the court with your shoes, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Kimiko came to his side as they were heading downstairs. “Do you know what this is about? Did Atsumu-san tell you?”</p><p> </p><p>Yutaka snorted. “Kimiko, we just had a conversation for the first time this weekend. It’s not like we’re in constant communication now.”</p><p> </p><p>He led the 40 or so students down to the court and, as he had directed, they gathered at the side, where there was rubber flooring rather than wood. Atsumu came to stand next to him, facing the band, as if they were co-conductors. Yutaka side-eyed him and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. Atsumu peeked his way and smiled, clapping a hand on his shoulder and clearing his throat. </p><p> </p><p>“As a club, we want to thank all of you for your hard work and for taking care of us. We really wouldn’t be as successful without your efforts. So, we’ve– KATO-KUN! We’ve brought these for you today!” He interjected himself to scream over his shoulder at a first year, who scrambled to roll up a small cart.</p><p> </p><p>The band shared a collective gasp as they caught a glimpse of the cart. It carried trays of wagashi– small, sweet confections– in all varieties– red bean, mochi, jellies, rice flour cakes, and more. They were elaborately decorated in a Christmas theme, depicting snowmen, reindeer, even Santa himself. Others were designed into flowers or decorated with red and green details. </p><p> </p><p>“Wow, Miya-san, this is amazing. I… We can’t thank you enough for your club’s generosity. We didn’t prepare anything… honestly, I don’t know what to say.” Yutaka whipped his head towards his friend, eyes wide and watery. “Everyone, let’s thank them for this incredible gift!”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you!” the band club said in unison, bowing to the players standing courtside. Excited murmurs rose from the group. This was the best thing that had happened to the band in all of Yutaka’s three years, and he briefly worried that the first years might think this was the kind of treatment to expect. He chuckled to himself at the thought. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay, guys, you know what to do!” Atsumu instructed his teammates. A few of the first years picked up the trays and moved amongst the band, allowing them to pick wagashi off the tray. They started to sit down against the walls, forming small groups, and the volleyball club soon joined them, intermingling. Permanent smiles were on every face, happily eating sweets and talking to the players. Yutaka watched Suna offer one of his wagashi to Mai, who promptly turned bright red and hid her face in her arm, while extending an open palm tentatively.</p><p> </p><p>“They’re actually cute, huh?” Atsumu said next to him, reminding Yutaka that he was still there. </p><p> </p><p>Yutaka grinned. “Yeah, they are. I didn’t tell her anything, by the way.”</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu raised an eyebrow. “Yuta-kun, keeping secrets? So are you and me better friends than you and Mori-san?” he teased, prodding him in the side with an elbow.</p><p> </p><p>Yutaka rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t say that yet, Ats– Miya-san.” He glared at Atsumu, daring him to poke at the near-name slip. “Really though, this is amazing. Thank you again. I know it’s going to mean a lot to the club members, and it means a lot to me.”</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. “Well, as the captain, I wanted to establish my own tradition. You can tell them to expect this next year, too. I already told the team I’d come back to haunt them about it. Ah, wait– that reminds me.” He walked back onto the court, hunching over the bench and shuffling through his bag. He carefully withdrew a small wooden box from within, and walked back to Yutaka, extending it towards him with two hands. “These are just for you, from me and Samu. Captain to captain special gift, you know?” </p><p> </p><p>Yutaka bowed and took it from him. Curious, he lifted the lid. Inside were eight unassuming wagashi, not artificially dyed, or shaped in any special way. A few had strawberries sticking out of the top, but that was as far as decoration went. “Atsumu, did you make these?”</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu beamed. “Of course! Me and Samu did together the other night. To show our appreciation for your leadership.”</p><p> </p><p>Yutaka closed the lid. He was past being confused by Atsumu’s kindness, at this point, forced to accept it without complaint. “Thank you, Miya-san. We’ll be cheering for you at the Interhigh. Merry Christmas.”</p><p> </p><p>“Merry Christmas, Yuta-kun.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The next morning, Yutaka waited at his desk for class to begin. Everyone was bouncing with energy, and in good spirits. He looked up when Osamu entered the room, and nodded in his direction. As Osamu slung his bag off his shoulder and sat down, Yutaka twisted in his seat to face him.</p><p> </p><p> “Osamu-san, I wanted to thank you for the wagashi yesterday. They were delicious, and I’m honored that you guys thought of me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mm, no worries, it wasn’t a big deal. The whole thing was Atsumu’s idea, anyways. I don’t feel like I can take credit for anything,” he chuckled, taking out a composition notebook. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I meant the ones in that box. That was above and beyond. And of course, thank you on behalf of the club, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Those? I’m surprised you liked them. Atsumu wouldn’t let me near the kitchen when he was making them. I told him they looked like crap, but then he just screamed at me. I guess he gave them to you anyways. So, they weren’t poisoned, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>Yutaka’s eyes widened, but he quickly composed himself. “Um, right. Yeah, they were good. Thanks again, Osamu-san.” He turned back around and his head dropped in between his hands. </p><p> </p><p><em>What is going on? Atsumu made those for me himself?  </em>This was the kind of thing someone did when they were confessing. But… no one at Inarizaki even knew he was gay, and Atsumu was decidedly <em>not</em> gay. He had a girlfriend just last summer, for crying out loud. <em>Ugh, I’m making too much out of it. I don’t even think I like Atsumu. I don’t like anyone, last time I checked.</em> <em>And I know he doesn’t think of me like that.</em></p><p> </p><p>He ripped out a piece of paper from his notebook. He wouldn’t have time to get something in return before it was the end of the school day, so this would have to be enough. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He started writing, then paused, frowning at his paper. He sighed and continued.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Atsumu, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Thank you so much for the wagashi you gave me yesterday. I had some last night, and they were delicious. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to get you something in return, but I’ll think of something over the holiday. In the meantime, please accept this letter of gratitude. I hope that you have a wonderful Christmas and New Year with your family. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He stopped writing, tapping his pen on his chin in thought. He debated adding the next part, but it was Christmas, so he thought, why not?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’ll be cheering for you at the Interhigh. Good luck, Atsumu. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sincerely, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Suzuki Yutaka </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He quickly folded the paper before anyone would see, and slipped it into his bag. Moments later, morning class started, but he didn’t pay attention. He spent the entire class anxious about having to present the letter to Atsumu later. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The lunch period started, and most of the class filed out of the room. Yutaka stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and walked out of the classroom with resolve. </p><p> </p><p>As soon as he entered the hall, he lost all of that resolve. He saw Atsumu and Suna talking outside of their classroom, chomping on sandwiches. Suna was facing him and saw him first. He looked surprised, and said something to Atsumu, then scurried back into the room. Atsumu turned around and smiled when he spotted Yutaka.</p><p> </p><p>“Yuta-kun!” </p><p> </p><p>Yutaka felt even more nervous as everyone’s eyes in the hall turned to him. Why was Miya Atsumu, the famous volleyball player, calling for Suzuki Yutaka, the band nerd? He tried to ignore their stares as he walked up to Atsumu. Atsumu must have noticed too, because he cast a glare around the room, and their peers quickly returned to chatting among themselves. He turned his gaze back to Yutaka and grinned, taking another bite of his sandwich. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, I’m glad I saw you! I actually have something for you.” Atsumu reached into his pocket, and pulled out a letter, sealed with a tiny heart sticker.</p><p> </p><p>Yutaka blushed furiously, this time unable to write it off to cold air. “Miya-san, I–”</p><p> </p><p>“Suna wanted me to give this to you. Can you give it to Mori-san? He’s too shy to do it himself, the big wuss.” Atsumu laughed, continuing over Yutaka’s mumbling. </p><p> </p><p>Yutaka’s shoulders relaxed, and a wave of relief washed over him. “Oh, I see. Of course, I’ll see her when we walk home. Tell Suna it’s no problem. She’ll be completely overwhelmed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks, Yuta-kun, I knew I could count on you! That’s what I told Suna. Anyways, were you looking for someone? Sorry I distracted you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, actually, I was looking for you. I wanted to give you this.” He handed him the letter from his bag, and watched Atsumu’s eyes widen. He looked between the folded paper and Yutaka frantically, running a hand through his hair. Yutaka panicked. “It’s just a letter to say thank you for the gift yesterday. It’s not like… that,” he stuttered out, looking at the floor shyly. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh! Haha, right! Thanks, you didn’t have to do that. I’ll read it later, then,” Atsumu said, also seeming to relax suddenly, and slipping the letter into his back pocket. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, that’s fine. Thanks again, Miya-san. I’ll see you after the break,” Yutaka said, bowing and starting to turn away, desperate to find a place where he could overanalyze their interaction in private. </p><p> </p><p>“Wait!” Atsumu blurted out, grabbing his arm, making Yutaka stop and face him again. He let go instantly, and grabbed his own opposite arm instead. “You’re...going to be there, right? At the Interhigh?”</p><p> </p><p>Yutaka frowned. “Of course, Miya-san. Why do you think we’ve been rehearsing for the past few weeks? Are you feeling okay?” He laughed a little at the silly question.</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu chuckled and scratched his head. “Right, sorry, I guess that was a dumb question.” He glanced at Yutaka, a hint of pink on his cheeks, and then past him, staring off into the distance. His eyes shifted to the window, and he looked out into the courtyard. “Yuta-kun… will you watch me? In the match?” he asked quietly, still staring through the glass. His light breathing created a small puff of condensation against it.</p><p> </p><p>Yutaka shifted his weight, and studied Atsumu’s face. He kept staring at his profile– at his stupid hair, his jawline, his thick, furrowed brow. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Miya-san. I’ve watched you since your first match here. You don’t have to ask me to. I always look for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu stayed silent for a moment, but smiled softly as he looked out the window. Yutaka was about to just walk away, embarrassed that he had replied so candidly. Atsumu opened his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“Look, Yuta-kun. It’s snowing.”</p><p> </p><p>Yutaka looked outside too, and saw tiny snowflakes falling over the courtyard. The students outside pointed excitedly, waving their arms and sticking their tongues out to try and catch a falling crystal. </p><p> </p><p>Yutaka chuckled. “Yeah, it is.” They looked out the window together for a second, smiling.</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu seemed to have come to a conclusion of some sort. He straightened up, and took a step towards his classroom. </p><p> </p><p>“Yuta-kun, I’ll see you next year, then!”</p><p> </p><p>“Miya-san, that’s such a terrible joke. Please learn some better ones over the holiday.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Atsumu didn’t learn any better jokes. But one week later, two boys in Hyogo visited the shrine with their families on New Years Day, and prayed for the same thing. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Osaka Christmas Market and Nishinomaru light display are both real events that happen in Osaka every year. The school Inarizaki is said to be based on is located basically right on the border of Osaka, so it would be easy for them to get there (Amagasaki High). Christmas themed wagashi is commonly served at cafes and bakeries during the holiday season in Japan. You can google any of these if you're curious to see pictures.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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